


How The Light Gets In

by Rookus



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: Angst, F/F, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-10-01 03:49:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10180034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rookus/pseuds/Rookus
Summary: Delia struggles with Patsy away in Hong Kong. The Nonnatuns make a vow to look after her whilst Patsy is away.*Trigger warning, self harm*





	1. Chapter 1

Trixie squinted through the dark at the hands of the small clock on her bedside table. 3:36am. Whoever was in the bathroom had been in there an awfully long time. It was unlikely that anyone would be in the bath at this time of night, although she wouldn’t altogether put it past Sister Monica Joan. Deciding to investigate, Trixie swung her legs out of bed and padded over to the door, exiting as quietly as she could so as not to wake a slumbering Valerie. Tiptoeing to the bathroom door, she knocked gently.

“Is everything alright?” She asked in a hush. When there was no response, Trixie put her hand on the doorknob and twisted. “I’m coming in, okay?”

At first, Trixie didn’t think anyone was in there, but then her eyes landed on a huddled figure, curled up in the corner. 

“Delia!” Trixie exclaimed in surprise. She looked closer at the girl. “Oh, God. Delia.”

Trixie shut the door behind her and hurried over to where Delia was sat, her back against the wall, face wet with tears, her thigh covered in blood, a scalpel clutched in her trembling fingers.

“Here, let me take that.” 

Trixie took the scalpel carefully from Delia’s hand and placed it on the side of the porcelain sink. Delia’s eyes were glossy, as if in a trance, following Trixie’s movements as she gathered a clean hand towel and started rinsing it under the tap. Wringing it out, Trixie crouched down next to Delia and laid the towel softly on Delia’s thigh. She noticed as she did so just how many gashes and lacerations adorned the girl’s leg and her stomach gave a lurch. Being a nurse and a midwife, she was not unaccustomed to blood or injuries and rarely blanched at the sight of them; it was not the injuries themselves that unnerved Trixie, but rather their provenance. 

“Hold that there for me,” Trixie said softly, taking Delia’s trembling hands in her own and placing them gently on the towel. “I’ll be back in a minute, okay? Just wait here for a moment, Delia. I’ll be back.” 

She gave Delia’s arm a gentle rub and silently dashed out of the room and down the stairs. Grabbing her nurse’s bag, she hurried back up and paused outside Phyllis and Barbara’s room. Placing her nurse’s bag noiselessly on the carpeted floor, she pushed the door open and slipped inside. 

“ _Phyllis_.” Trixie gently shook the older woman until she stirred and opened her eyes, blinking disconcertedly at Trixie, and then the clock on her bedside table. 

“What on Earth, Nurse Franklin? What’s the matter?”

“Shh.” Trixie put her finger to her lips, pointing at Barbara’s sleeping form. “It’s Delia,” Trixie explained, “she’s… well, we need your help.”

If Phyllis had questions, she didn’t voice them, just nodded and got out of bed, pulling her dressing gown on over her nightdress and following Trixie silently out of the room and into the bathroom. 

“What’s happened here, then?” Phyllis enquired gently, kneeling down next to Delia as Trixie opened her nurse’s bag next to them. Phyllis let out of short hiss as she peeled back the damp towel. 

“Oh, Delia,” Phyllis exhaled sadly. Delia looked up at the new voice and stared at Phyllis, her eyes overflowing with yet more tears. 

“I’m sorry – “ Delia’s voice cracked. “I don’t know what – I didn’t mean to –“

“It’s alright, sweetie,” Trixie looked up from her bag and took one of Delia’s hands in her own. “Don’t apologise, it’s alright, you’re okay.”

Delia’s face contorted in anguish. She put her free hand over her face as a wave of sobs took over her. Phyllis turned around so they were sat side by side and pulled Delia to her. 

“Come here, lass,” she said tenderly, cradling Delia’s head to her. Delia sobbed quietly into the older woman’s shoulder as Trixie softly cleaned the wounds on her leg, her touch tender and loving. 

“This is going to sting a little bit sweetie, but I’ll be as quick as I can.” Delia did not respond as Trixie rubbed anti-sceptic over the cuts. “And this one, I’m afraid, is going to need just a few little stitches. It’ll all be over before you know it.”

Trixie gave Delia a smile as she set to work stitching up one of the deeper cuts. True to her word, within a couple of minutes she had bandaged Delia up and cleared away the remnants of her equipment. 

“Let’s get you to bed, shall we?” Phyllis stood up, taking one of Delia’s hands to help her up. “We can have a little chat in the morning. Things will look different then.” She squeezed Delia’s hand and Delia nodded noncommittedly as the three of them made their way out of the bathroom and into Delia’s room.

“Now try and get some rest,” Trixie said, once Delia had clambered awkwardly into bed. Trixie pulled the covers up and tucked Delia in, placing a soft kiss on her head as she did so. “You know where we are if you need us.”

Once the door was shut behind them, Trixie and Phyllis turned to each other.

“Oh, _Phyllis!_ ” Trixie put her hands to her face as she promptly burst into tears, allowing her professional mask to slip now they were out of earshot of Delia. She felt Phyllis’s arms wrap themselves around her. 

“I know, kid,” Phyllis said dismally. 

“What are we going to do? Oh, _Delia!_ It looked so awful, she must have been feeling horrifically low, and none of us even _knew_.”

“Where’s Nurse Mount when you need her, eh?” said Phyllis, rubbing Trixie’s back.

“Oh, Phyllis, I rather think this has something to do with Patsy. I think Delia is struggling terribly with the separation…” Trixie pulled away slightly and wiped her face, eyeing Phyllis curiously. “Do you know…?”

Phyllis narrowed her eyes knowingly. 

“Know what…?” she asked slowly. 

“…know… something…” Trixie sniffled, trying to convey her meaning without using words, thinking if Phyllis knew, then she would understand, and if she didn’t know, she wouldn’t.

“Nurse Mount…” said Phyllis, nodding, reluctant to say any more lest she had misread Trixie’s signs.

“And Delia…” Trixie was also nodding, encouraging. “They’re…”

“Together…” finished Phyllis, sure now. 

“Gosh, I rather thought I was the only one who had figured it out!” Trixie wiped the rest of her tears away, smiling in spite of the events that had brought them to this moment. “Do they know you know?”

“Nurse Busby is aware,” Phyllis said, nodding.

“I’d been trying to get it out of Patsy for ages before she left. I’m sure that she knew I knew, but I didn’t want to say anything, I didn’t want to frighten her.” Trixie’s voice sounded vexed as she said this last part. “It makes me so mad that we live in a world where one’s best friend cannot even speak about their relationship out of pure _fear!_ ” 

Phyllis let out a sad sigh. 

“Let’s get to bed, Trixie. We can talk things over with young Delia in the morning.” Phyllis laid a hand on Trixie’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze before retreating to her own bedroom. Trixie looked sadly at Delia’s door for a moment longer, and then crept back into the darkness of her own bedroom, sure that she would lay awake until dawn, thinking the night over, knowing what she would have to do tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trixie and Phyllis wait up to speak to Delia.

Trixie reached out and hit the switch on the back of her alarm clock. She had lain awake for the remainder of the night, thinking about Delia. She had, of course, been trained on how to deal with these cases during nursing school – they all had. But Delia wasn’t a case. She was her housemate, her colleague, her friend. And she was Patsy’s girlfriend. In Patsy’s absence, Trixie liked to think of herself as second in command when it came to caring for Delia, and she felt she had failed. It would seem that Delia, like herself and Patsy, was better at putting on a front than Trixie thought. With a sigh, Trixie slid out of bed and pulled on her uniform.

“Good morning, Nurse Franklin.” Sister Julienne greeted Trixie with a smile as she sat down at the breakfast table. 

“Good morning, Sister,” Trixie replied with a tight lipped smile. She looked around the table and noticed that Delia was absent. 

“Has anyone seen Delia this morning?” She asked casually, trying to keep the concern out of her voice. 

“She’s concentrating on her studies – quite the mad dash she made when I saw her this morning!” Sister Winifred trilled, spreading jam liberally on a piece of toast. “Said she was off to the library to get some studying in before her shift. The library at 6am!” Sister Winifred shook her head as Trixie’s eyes found Phyllis’s. She saw her worry reflected in the older woman’s face. 

*

“She doesn’t finish until 10pm tonight.” Trixie looked up from the rota her and Phyllis were perusing in the hallway.

“Then we’ll just have to wait up for her. She can’t avoid this situation, as much as she might want to.” Phyllis smiled sadly.

“You’re right.” Trixie said decidedly. “We’ll wait up. I’ll meet you in the kitchen at 10.” She put the rota down and sighed. “I do hope she’ll let us help her.”

“Me too, lass. Me too.”

Trixie watched as Phyllis gathered her bag and made her way out of the front door, waiting until it had shut behind her before making her way to the telephone. She knew that Delia more than likely wouldn’t thank her for what she was about to do, but it would be nothing compared to the wrath she would face if she didn’t. 

*

Trixie bit nervously on her nail as she heard footsteps draw closer and then Patsy’s voice coming through the telephone receiver.

“Deels?”

Trixie let out a breath.

“It’s me, I’m afraid. Sorry to disappoint!”

She spoke with a brightness that she knew Patsy would see through immediately.

“Trixie? What’s the matter, what’s happened?”

There was a silence as Trixie tried to find the words to explain why she was calling. 

“It’s Delia,” she settled on eventually, and then immediately regretted it as she heard how ominous it sounded. “She’s fine, she’s fine, don’t worry – it’s just… Well… she’s not fine, not really. Oh, Patsy –“ Trixie put a hand over her mouth to try and stop the flood of tears she knew was about to come.

“Trixie, what is it? What’s happened?”

Trixie could hear the panic in Patsy’s voice and it only increased the torrent of sorrow that was sweeping through her. She took a deep, steadying breath, and started to explain the events of the previous night. When she had finished, there was silence on the other end. 

“Patsy?” If Trixie hadn’t been able to hear Patsy’s breathing, she would have thought the line had disconnected. She strongly suspected that Patsy was trying not to cry. 

“Trixie –“ Trixie heard Patsy clear her throat softly. “Trixie, I need you to look after her, okay? I need you to – I need you to make sure she’s okay.” Trixie heard Patsy’s voice break – she was definitely crying. The sound of it was like a punch to the gut. Trixie could count on one hand the times she had witnessed Patsy cry in all the years they had been friends. 

“I’m going to Patsy, I promise.” Trixie breathed. “Phyllis and I.”

“God, Delia,” Patsy moaned down the phone. “What are you doing to yourself?”

“Patsy, it was so awful,” Trixie sobbed. She had tried to subtly downplay the unpleasantness of Delia’s injuries, for Patsy’s sake, but found herself unable to withhold the details once the floodgates had been opened. “There were so many cuts - I even had to stitch one of them up, and she’s going to have terrible scarring.” Trixie squeezed her eyes shut, her knuckles turning white against the receiver as she replayed the episode in her mind. 

“I feel so helpless,” Patsy croaked. “I feel so far away.”

“I know,” Trixie replied, forcing herself to control her voice. “I know you do Patsy, but we’ve got her. We’re going to keep her safe now.”

“Thank you for telephoning, Trixie,” Patsy’s voice was heavy with gratitude. “And thank you, for taking care of her. There’s no one else I would trust to.”

Trixie nodded silently as more tears flowed down her face. She attempted to steady her voice before she spoke again. 

“A hundred times over, Patsy.”

*

Trixie looked up as she heard the soft _thud_ of the front door.

“She’s back,” she said softly to Phyllis. They were seated at the kitchen table, three mugs of steaming Horlicks in front of them. 

“Get back here, you,” Phyllis called, her voice mock stern as Delia tried to slip past the kitchen unnoticed. 

“I’m really tired, Phyllis – I’ve had a cracker of a shift so I think I really just need to go to bed and –“

“Sit.” Phyllis commanded, pointing at the chair opposite her. Delia sighed and put her bag down, shrugging out of her coat as she made her way over to the table.

“Now,” began Phyllis as Delia settled herself in the chair and wrapped her hands around one of the mugs of Horlicks, “why don’t you tell us about last night?”

“There’s not really anything to tell,” Delia said with an air of nonchalance that did nothing to disguise the quiver in her voice. “It was just a bit of a blip. I really appreciate you helping out, but this isn’t necessary, it won’t happen again.”

Trixie bit her lip. 

“Delia…” she reached across and put one of her hands on Delia’s, “you can talk to us. What you did last night… it isn’t… it’s not a normal way to deal with things, Delia. And you can’t say it won’t happen again, because it might. And if it does, it’s absolutely fine, and we don’t want you to feel bad about it, but we want you to know that you can come to us.”

Delia nodded, not taking her eyes of her mug. 

“Thank you,” she said politely, moving her chair back as if to stand.

“Not just yet, lass.” Phyllis said, calmly. “Just relax. We’ve got all night, stop trying to run away. We need to talk about this properly.” 

A silence descended on the table. After a few moments, Trixie cleared her throat.

“I just want to get something out of the way,” she said matter-of-factly, “just so we can speak freely - there’s no point to any of this if Delia can’t speak about Patsy.”

Delia looked up, her eyes widening slightly.

“Delia, it’s fine. I’ve known for a while - not that Patsy deigned to tell me,” she added good-naturedly. “But I just want you to know, everyone at this table loves you both, and we need you to be able to talk to us.”

Delia stared at Trixie for a few moments, and then looked at her hands before speaking.

“I just miss her so much,” she whispered, a tear sliding down her cheek. “I feel like I’m writing her such empty letters because I can’t tell her how much I’m missing her. She’s had so much on with her father, I can’t bear to add to her burden with my ridiculous woes.”

“Delia, your woes are not ridiculous.” Trixie shook her head as she spoke. “And Patsy would never think they were.”

“I should be able to cope on my own. I always have. But now I feel like… I feel like half of me is missing. I can’t even get to sleep in my own bed, because when I do, I wake up and for a moment, just a moment, in that split second between sleep and waking, I feel her arms around me. And then I wake up properly and realise…She isn’t here. And I can’t talk to anyone about it. I just have to _casually wonder_ how Nurse Mount is doing, as if it isn’t tearing me apart.” Delia was still staring resolutely at her hands, refusing to look at the two women opposite her. “And now I’ve ripped my leg to shreds, and you’ve all seen it, and Patsy…“ Delia put her hands over her face, her shoulders hunching over as a sob ripped through her, “ – Patsy’s going to come home, and she’s going to see it, and she’s going to know - she’s going to be so revolted and I feel so selfish and stupid and I’m so mad –“ Delia choked on her words as her sobs took over. Phyllis and Trixie both left their seats with haste and crouched down next to Delia’s chair, flanking her, their arms wrapping themselves around her shaking body.

“Shhh,” Trixie soothed, cradling Delia’s head to her chest. “Just take a deep breath, Delia. We’ve got you, you’re okay.”

“You’re alright, kid.” Phyllis grasped Delia’s hands in her own. “You’re alright.”

When Delia’s sobs had subsided, she raised a trembling hand and wiped her cheeks.

“Will you let me take a look?” Trixie laid a gentle hand on Delia’s leg. Delia looked for a moment as though she was going to say something, but acquiesced when she met Trixie’s gaze. Trixie got up and gathered her bag from the worktop, returning to kneel beside Delia and slowly raised the hem of Delia’s dress until it was at the top of her thigh. Trixie carefully set about removing the bandages she had wound the previous night. Delia’s leg had started to scab over, but each cut was still red and angry, raised from the skin. Trixie gently started to clean each one.

“You’re not alone, Delia.” Trixie said softly as she worked. “Not anymore.”

Delia looked miserably at her leg.

“It looks so… ugly.” 

“Nothing about you is ugly, Delia.” Phyllis said, still crouched down opposite Trixie, a hand on Delia’s arm. “Not even this. And Patsy won’t think so, either.”

“What am I going to tell her?” Delia looked at Phyllis, her blue eyes glistening.

Phyllis smiled kindly.

“The truth is always a good place to start.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patsy comes home. Phyllis will be back in the next chapter, don't worry!

Thanking the driver, Patsy slammed the door of the taxi shut and looked up at the building before her. She was home.  
Knowing Delia would be on shift, Patsy left her luggage in the hallway, unsure of the sleeping arrangements, and made her way to what was previously her bedroom, hoping Trixie would be home. Knocking firmly on the door, she was relieved to hear the familiar voice call for her to enter.

“PATSY!” Trixie leapt off the bed, the magazine she was reading falling to the floor, and ran at her best friend, flinging her arms around her neck with gusto. 

“Hello, Nurse Franklin!” Patsy replied, laughing at Trixie’s enthusiasm and responding to the hug with warmth. 

“I’m so glad you’re back,” Trixie said, holding on to Patsy for a few more seconds before releasing her and taking her by the shoulders. “I’m so sorry about your father. Delia read his obit in the Times.”

“He went peacefully,” Patsy gave a small but genuine smile. It faltered slightly as she spoke her next question. “Delia… How is she?”

Trixie let out a sigh and sat back down on her mattress. Patsy joined her.

“She’s okay.” Trixie looked at Patsy. “I’m guessing her letters haven’t been bursting with emotional honesty?”

Patsy allowed herself a small laugh.

“No. She’s not mentioned anything at all. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I’d been a bad influence on her. She’s usually so unrestrained with her feelings. I used to think it was a bad thing, but over the past few weeks before I got on the boat… I’d have given anything for just an ounce of the openness she once gave so freely.”

Patsy looked forlornly at her hands. 

“Oh, Patsy.” Trixie put a hand on Patsy’s forearm. “We tried to get her to open up, we really did, but she was adamant that you weren’t distracted from your father. She doesn’t know that I told you. I’d rather not be there when she finds out, if I’m honest…”

Patsy gave a lopsided smile at this.

“I just couldn’t not tell you,” Trixie continued. “And, between you and Delia… Well, I’m afraid to say I was rather more scared of you than I am of her, and I knew there’d be an awful row if you came home and found out that I’d kept it from you!”

Patsy looked up and put her hand on Trixie’s. 

“I’m really glad you rang me, Trix. It was hell being there and not being able to do anything, but you’re right. I needed to know.”  
Trixie sighed.

“It’s the best thing in the world, being in love, but it’s a ghastly business sometimes, when you can’t be where you’re needed.” Trixie looked thoughtfully at the window opposite them, missing the stricken look that had appeared on Patsy’s face. 

“What?” Patsy swallowed, not sure if she’d heard correctly. Trixie turned to look at her and widened her eyes as she realised what she’d said.

“Oh!” Trixie puffed her cheeks out, struggling to find an immediate way to rectify the situation. 

“Trixie?” Patsy raised her eyebrows at her friend.

Trixie grimaced.

“Oh, Patsy, I’m sorry. I’ve been talking to Delia about the two of you so much that I’d forgotten that you didn’t know I knew!”

“Delia – Delia _told_ you?”

“No, I’ve…” Trixie looked slightly guilty. “Oh, Patsy, I’ve known for an absolute age. To be honest, I thought you were aware that I knew.”

“Oh…”

There was a silence as Patsy tried to absorb this new information. As far as she could ascertain, Trixie didn’t appear to be perturbed in the slightest at the idea of her and Delia. Not that Patsy had ever thought she would be, and if she was honest there were occasions where she’d had an inkling that Trixie suspected, but to hear it spoken of out loud… She had never discussed _Delia_ with anyone before. She had spent so long withholding the truth from Trixie, littering their conversations with tiny white lies and red herrings, that now the truth had been voiced, Patsy found she didn’t have the words to discuss it. 

“I’ve always thought she was the best thing that ever happened to you,” Trixie said softly. “And I feel so sad that you thought you couldn’t tell me.”

Patsy didn’t reply, instead taking a packet of cigarettes from her pocket and shaking one out. 

“It’s not that I didn’t want to, Trixie.” She said eventually, after lighting a cigarette and taking a deep drag. “I couldn’t.”

“I know.” Trixie laid her head on Patsy’s shoulder. “But I know now. Which means we can talk about it. Anytime you need to Patsy, day or night. You’ve been such a support for me for so many years, I only hope that I can return the favour now.”

Patsy put her arm around Trixie and gave her shoulders a squeeze.

“You’ve been looking after Deels for me - you’ve already returned the favour tenfold.”

*

Delia pushed the heavy oak door of Nonnatus open and stepped over the threshold. She turned around to close it when something caught her eye at the bottom of the stairs.

Luggage.

Flinging her cloak behind her as she ran, not caring that it was left lying in the middle of the hallway, she took the stairs two by two and threw herself into Trixie’s room, not bothering to knock. There, sat on Trixie’s bed chatting with the blonde girl herself, a cigarette lolling lazily in her perfect fingers, was Patsy.

“ _Delia!_ ” Patsy clumsily threw her cigarette in the ash tray on Trixie’s bed and flung herself at Delia, her long arms securing themselves instinctively around the shorter girl’s waist.

“Oh, Pats!” Delia wrapped her arms tightly around Patsy’s neck.

“I’ll leave you two be,” Trixie said softly as she slipped past them, giving them both a squeeze on the arm as she did so.

Delia let out a strangled sob as the door clicked shut behind Trixie.

“Oh, Deels.” Patsy hugged the girl tighter.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Delia whispered into Patsy’s neck. “I’m so sorry about your father, Pats.”

“Me too,” replied Patsy. “But it was time, he went gently. I’m glad I was with him.” 

Delia inhaled softly, her arms still around Patsy’s neck. The scent of Patsy’s neck was like being wrapped in a warm, soft blanket. She smelt of faint perfume and cigarette smoke; Delia would never admit it to her, lest she though it permission to continue smoking, but she loved the smell of Patsy’s cigarettes.

“Deels?” Patsy hugged the smaller girl to her. “Are you okay?”

“I am now.” Delia pulled back and gave Patsy a watery smile, placing one of her hands on Patsy’s cheek. She leant forward and closed the gap between them, softly at first, savouring the feel of Patsy’s lips on hers after so long, then with slightly more pressure until she felt Patsy’s tongue flick over her bottom lip and felt her inhibitions drop. She spun Patsy around and slammed her against the closed bedroom door. 

“Oh, God, Delia,” Patsy flung her head back against the door as Delia’s lips met her neck. 

“I missed you, Pats,” Delia murmured as she continued her kisses down to Patsy’s collarbone. “I _really_ missed you.”

*

“Deels?”

“Mmm?” Delia was watching dark orange rays of sun filter through her window, her back resting on the pillows of her bed, feet in Patsy’s lap. Evening had started to settle over Nonnatus House. Patsy’s return had been met by the other residents with shakes of hands and kisses on cheeks, soft sympathies had been murmured, introductions had been made. Patsy would be sleeping in with Phyllis, given that her old bed had now been given to Valerie, so she had unpacked the few items she had in the room across the hall and then silently slipped across to Delia’s room to spend the evening getting reacquainted with her girlfriend. 

“Have you been okay, whilst I’ve been away?” Patsy’s voice sounded tentative. She was trying to give Delia an opportunity to open up to her.

“Well, I’ve missed you, of course,” Delia said, looking across at Patsy. “It was really hard with you gone, Pats. But I’ve had the others to keep me company, and I’ve been studying for my exams, so I’ve managed.” She gave Patsy a smile.

“I don’t doubt that,” Patsy smiled back. “But have you been… well, have you really been okay?”

Delia frowned suspiciously. 

“What do you mean?”

Patsy took a deep breath and looked at the window.

“Patsy..?”

Patsy turned her gaze back to Delia.

“Trixie telephoned.” She explained. “Whilst I was in Hong Kong.”

“Oh.” Delia bit her lip slightly.

“Yes.”

There were a few beats of silence.

“She told me what happened, Deels.” Patsy put a hand softly on Delia’s calf, gently stroking her leg through her stocking. Delia cast her eyes back to the window, her face turning slightly red with embarrassment. 

“I’m sorry she phoned you, Pats.” She said softly. 

“Delia, why on Earth didn’t _you_ phone me?” Patsy was doing her best to keep her voice neutral but, for once, her professional façade was slipping. She could feel her ‘Nurse Mount’ voice going out of the window, to be replaced by her ‘Patsy Mount, concerned girlfriend’ voice.

“Pats, your father was dying.” Delia looked back at Patsy, tilting her head to the side and raising her eyebrows. “You didn’t need to be dealing with me being stupid and acting ridiculous –“

“Don’t you dare. Don’t you _dare_ , Delia Busby.” Patsy’s eyes flashed dangerously. “This isn’t you ‘being stupid’ or being a little bit sad, so don’t you start telling me that it doesn’t matter or that it isn’t important. Yes, my father was dying, but that doesn’t mean that I didn’t have time for you. I _always_ have time for you.”

Delia’s eyes were shining with tears that were threatening to spill at any minute. 

“Pats, it wasn’t a huge deal –“

“Delia, you cut your fucking leg open with a scalpel!” Patsy lifted Delia’s feet from her lap and moved closer. “Deels, you _cut_ your _leg open_. With a _scalpel_ -“

“I _know_ , Patsy!” Delia threw her hands to her face as her resolve shattered and she burst into tears. “I KNOW!”

Patsy grabbed Delia and pulled her to her, wrapping her arms around the smaller girl as they both cried. 

“God, Deels.” Patsy put a protective hand gently on the back of Delia’s head, cradling it to her, stroking her hair. 

“I’m sorry,” Delia sobbed as she clung to Patsy, her hands grabbing the back of Patsy’s shirt. “I’m so sorry, Pats.”

“Shh,” Patsy rubbed Delia’s back, squeezing her own eyes tightly shut to try and stem the flow of her tears. “Don’t be sorry, Deels. That’s not what I want.”

When Patsy felt Delia’s tears start to subside, she pulled back gently, wiping her own tears away with her fingertips. 

“Tell me about it,” she whispered, taking Delia’s hands in her own. 

“Pats, no.” Delia sniffled, looked away, not meeting Patsy’s eyes.

“Please, Delia.” Patsy brought one of Delia’s hands up to her mouth and lay her lips on it, kissing the soft skin, holding it against her cheek. “Please.”

Delia let out a shaky breath and turned her face back to Patsy. She paused.

“I didn’t even realise what I was doing,” she said eventually, shaking her head. “It just… it felt better. With you gone, I felt like I was disappearing, like without you here I was suddenly only half a person. And it made me feel better. Just for that moment, it made me feel _something_.”

Patsy nodded mutely. She could understand where Delia was coming from. It was the same feeling Patsy got from cigarettes. The same feeling Trixie used to get from a bottle of gin. But the thought of Delia doing that… 

Patsy put her hands gently on Delia’s thighs, slid them down until she reached the hem of her dress, slipping them underneath it. 

“Patsy…” Delia placed her hands on top of Patsy’s, stopping their progress.

“Deels, I’m going to see it anyway.” Patsy said quietly, stroking one of Delia’s hands with her thumb. 

“But Pats…“ Heavy teardrops rolled silently down Delia’s face. “It’s so… horrific. It’s so ugly.”

“Delia.” Patsy looked at Delia seriously. “You’re perfect.” 

Patsy said it simply, because to her, it was that simple. She lifted the hem of Delia’s dress up to the tops of her thighs, unclipping her suspenders and rolling the stockings down and off her ankles. She let her gaze travel over Delia’s right leg, taking it in, every dark pink scar, every criss-cross.

“Jesus, Deels.” She said quietly, after a moment. She ran her fingertips gently over Delia’s maimed thigh. Her touch was so light it sent a shiver up Delia’s spine. Patsy felt a tear roll down her cheek. 

“Every inch of you is just as perfect as it was when I left.” She raised her eyes to meet Delia’s. “I mean it.”

“Pats, don’t.” Delia whispered sadly. “I know it’s a mess.”

“I love every bit of you, Delia. Every single bit. Even the parts of you that you think are unlovable.”

Patsy leant down and placed her lips on Delia’s thigh, kissing it gently. When she sat back up, she put a hand to Delia’s cheek and wiped away the tears that were still falling. 

There would be time to talk about this later. Patsy wasn’t ready to let it go. But for now, all she wanted to do was kiss Delia, to touch the skin she hadn’t touched in 9 months, to show Delia just how much she loved her. Scars and all.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patsy chats to Phyllis and Trixie.

It was past midnight when Patsy gave a sleeping Delia a light kiss on the cheek and padded softly out of the room. She was still worried about Delia, but the feeling of being back here, of being able to lie next to her, to kiss her, was enough to make Patsy feel lighter than she had in months. It had been a long 9 months. Patsy hadn’t realised just how much she’d craved Delia’s body until she had felt it wrapped around her, until she ran her hands up Delia’s thighs, until Delia touched her to the point where she forgot her own name, biting down on her wrist to muffle her cries. 

She opened the door to her new room as silently as she could so as not to wake Phyllis; however she was surprised to see Phyllis’s small bedside lamp was still on, the woman herself sat up in bed reading a Spanish phrase book. 

“Good evening, Phyllis,” Patsy said pleasantly, consciously straightening her ruffled shirt. 

“Good evening, Nurse Mount,” Phyllis nodded, casting a somewhat amused eye over Patsy’s dishevelled state.

“I rather thought you’d be asleep by now.” Patsy pulled open one of the drawers in her new chest and rifled through it, seeking out pyjamas that were substantially thicker than those she had been wearing in Hong Kong. 

“Just catching up on some of my Spanish.” Phyllis held up her book, as if for proof. “How is young Nurse Busby?”

Patsy dropped her clothes into the laundry basket and pulled on her striped pyjamas, considering her response as she clambered under her duvet and sighed. 

“She’s going to be okay.” She said, with more confidence than she felt. “I hope…”

“I’m sure she’s going to be much better now you’re home.” Phyllis smiled kindly. 

Patsy smiled sadly in return.

“I do hope so Phyllis, but I’m rather afraid my presence won’t be enough.”

“These things take time. And care.” Said Phyllis wisely. 

“Do you think she’ll do it again?” Patsy voiced the question that had been on her lips all evening. She wanted to think that now she was home, Delia would be fine, but the nurse in her told her otherwise. These things didn’t mend themselves overnight. 

Phyllis sighed.

“I don’t know, kid. I can’t imagine how difficult it is for the two of you having to keep this a secret. Secrets like that can do terrible things to a person’s sense of self.”

Patsy stared at the end of her bed, unsure of how to respond. It seemed that since she had left, hers and Delia’s relationship had become somewhat common knowledge. Patsy felt torn between hiding behind her usual shield, closing herself off to conversations about _that_ , and actually talking to someone about it. Naturally, the former would be preferable, but Patsy needed to take herself out of the equation for once. This was about Delia. 

“She always seemed so… sure of herself.” Patsy began hesitantly. Phyllis smiled encouragingly, slightly surprised that Patsy seemed to be continuing the line of conversation. “It was always… I was always the one who was… reserved about my feelings. Delia was always so adamant that what we were feeling was normal. ‘It’s just love,’ she would say to me. ‘ _No two love stories are the same._ ’ She’d ask me who I was trying to model any hypothetical relationships on, and of course I didn’t have an answer, because she’s right. No two loves _are_ the same. Every single one is drastically different, and so, in that respect, ours _is_ normal.”

Patsy sighed sadly.

“But of course, it’s not.” She finished.

Before Phyllis had time to respond, even if she could think of what to say, there was a gentle knock on the door and Trixie poked her head round, returning from a late night delivery. 

“Hello, you two!” She said brightly. “I thought I saw your light on, you’re up awfully late. Is everything okay?”

“Afraid you’re missing out on some gossip?” Patsy replied, teasingly. 

“Always!” Trixie’s eyes twinkled as she shut the door softly behind her and climbed, uninvited, onto Patsy’s bed. Patsy laughed and pulled Trixie towards her in a rare show of affection.

“What’s gotten into you?” Trixie laughed as she returned the hug.

“I’ve just missed you.” Patsy replied, horrified to hear her voice crack and feel the sting of tears in her eyes.

“Patsy?” Trixie spoke softly from over Patsy’s shoulder, hearing it too. The tenderness of Trixie’s voice seemed to tip Patsy over the edge and the sobs she hadn’t realised she’d been containing in Delia’s room suddenly forced themselves into existence. 

“Oh, Patsy!” Trixie tightened her hold on Patsy, rubbing her back in gentle circles. 

“Her beautiful legs,” Patsy sobbed into Trixie’s shoulder. 

“I know,” Trixie said soothingly. 

“They’re still beautiful, but I just didn’t expect it to be so…” Patsy’s hands gripped the back of Trixie’s uniform as she took several shuddering breaths. “Real.”

Trixie held Patsy close as a fresh wave of sobs took over, rubbing her back, whispering soothing words into her ear. Eventually, Patsy pulled herself away and wiped her tears roughly.

“I’m sorry,” she said, suddenly embarrassed as she regained some control over her emotions. 

“Don’t be sorry, lass,” Phyllis said from her bed. “We’re here for Delia, and we’re here for you, too. God knows this isn’t easy for you.”

“Patsy, please don’t feel like you can’t cry on me!” Trixie held Patsy’s hands in her own, squeezing them gently. 

“I just…” Patsy put her hands over her face. “Oh, Delia,” she groaned into her hands. She took them away again and stared at Trixie, a lost look on her face. “Is this my fault?”

“Patsy, _no_!” Trixie said vehemently. 

“Patsy.” Phyllis swung her legs off her own bed and reached across, putting her hand on Patsy’s forearm. “You mustn’t think that.”

“But if I’d not gone, if I’d stayed –“

“Patsy, I hate to say it, but…” Trixie bit her lip. “I think that this would have happened regardless of where you were. We’re nurses, Patsy. You know as well as I do that this behaviour isn’t just a one off reaction to something that’s happened. Delia’s been bottling these feelings up for so long. It’s not an uncommon trait in… people like you and Delia.”

Patsy frowned.

“Not _because_ of it,” Trixie clarified hurriedly, worrying she was digging herself into a hole. “Just because of the complete and utter stress and sheer exhaustion that comes from having to hide emotions as strong as the feelings you and Delia have for each other. It’s a coping mechanism.”

As if to demonstrate, Trixie took one of Patsy’s hands and turned it over, so her palm was facing upwards.

“Look,” she said, tracing the worn skin of Patsy’s fingertips. They were red and rough. Patsy withdrew her hand in embarrassment. Not only was she humiliated by the state of her hands, but she was acutely aware of where they had been not one hour ago...

“The point is,” Trixie continued, “we all have different coping mechanisms. When you’re stressed or sad, you clean. Not a normal amount either, Patsy. You clean _obsessively_. And whilst your coping mechanism happens to come in handy, it still isn’t healthy.”

Patsy sighed. 

“I know that.”

“Do you blame Delia for you being completely emotionally unhinged?” There was a small, teasing smile behind Trixie’s words.

“Of course not!” Patsy replied, horrified. 

“Well then.” Trixie replied, satisfied. “Patsy, Delia would be _heartbroken_ if she heard you thinking this was your fault.”

“This isn’t anyone’s _fault_ , Patsy.” Phyllis said, shaking her head. “Not yours, and not Delia’s. If anything, it’s society’s fault, for forcing ridiculous regulations on us all.”

“Quite!” Trixie agreed fervently. 

Patsy gave them a small smile, thankful to have someone on her side. On _their_ side. She couldn’t put into words how much it meant to her, how much she appreciated them both, so she settled with pulling Trixie a little closer, taking Phyllis’s hand in her own, and letting the comfortable silence envelop them as the night settled in.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delia has a bit of a rough night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big up to Leonard Cohen for writing The Anthem and inspiring (100% writing) Patsy's line at the end.

Delia bit down hard on her lip as she wrapped her coat further around herself, trying with everything she had not to lose her composure before she got home. It was almost midnight and she had just finished a horrific shift at the London, during which she had been shadowing one of the senior midwives and had been witness to a baby losing its life just hours into it. Whilst the senior midwife had dealt with the baby, Delia had been left to look after the broken mother, issuing words of comfort that she knew would fall on deaf ears, trying to make sense of the tragedy, not finding the words, or the want, to explain why. 

As soon as the heavy door of Nonnatus slammed shut behind her, Delia felt her resolve break. She hurried up the stairs to the bathroom, ignoring Trixie’s concerned greeting, and shut the door behind her, sliding the rusty old lock into place. She would be fine. She just needed a little bit of time to compose herself. She perched on the edge of the bathtub and let the emotions she had been keeping at bay all evening sweep over her. She vaguely heard Trixie’s anxious voice from somewhere behind the door.

Delia let herself cry. She cried for the tiny baby that had lost its life. She cried for the mother, who would spend the rest of her life mourning the loss of the most precious gift she had ever been given. Delia cried for the lifeless body the child left behind, and she cried for her own body, the one she had been so reckless with, the one she had maimed so carelessly. She cried for the state of her once perfect skin and the feeling of shame it now gave her every time she undressed. She cried for the perfect childhood she had taken for granted, for the family that so many others didn’t have. 

“Delia?” Delia heard Patsy’s soft voice float through the bathroom and held a hand over her mouth, attempting to stifle the sounds of her sobs. She didn’t want Patsy to hear her losing control like this. Not again. 

“Delia, it’s Pats. Will you let me in?”

Delia tried to steady her breathing, taking broken, shuddering breaths as she wiped the tears furiously from her face. 

“Deels, please open the door.” Delia saw the handle rattle from the other side and attempted to call out that she was fine, but her voice, usually so ready, would not make itself heard. 

“Delia.” Patsy tapped on the door again, her tone of voice changing from soothing to pleading. “Delia, open the door. Please.”

Delia stood up shakily and walked over to the door, leaning her back against it. 

“Pats…” Her voice came out in a hoarse whisper.

“It’s okay, Deels. I’m here. Just let me in and we can talk about it.”

“I can’t, Pats.” Delia slid down the door until she was sat on the floor, knees tucked up under her chin. She heard Patsy let out a sigh from the other side of the door and heard her say something softly to Trixie, followed by Trixie’s soft murmuring and then retreating footsteps. When she spoke again, Patsy’s voice was level with Delia’s, and Delia realised that Patsy had sat down.

“Delia, it’s only me. Please talk to me.” Delia heard Patsy rest her head against the door frame.

“I can’t bear it, Pats.” Delia whispered. 

“What can’t you bear?” Patsy’s voice was gentle. 

Delia didn’t answer. She thought about everything Patsy had been through in her 29 years. She thought about her alone in an internment camp, struggling with the grief of losing not only a sister but a _mother_ , something that most people struggled to deal with in adulthood, nevermind as a nine-year-old. And yet, Patsy never mentioned it or brought it up. The rare times she did speak about it were in hushed, tentative tones, when she was alone with Delia, protected by the privacy of their bedrooms or the cover of darkness. Delia was Patsy’s safe place, her anchor. Delia was the person who was always there when everything else fell apart. Delia was the strong one in their relationship, because Patsy had to be strong all day everywhere else. And Delia needed to carry on being strong for Patsy. 

“I can’t bear you seeing me like this.” She finally said, looking up at the dark cracks on the ceiling. “I don’t want you to have to deal with me when you have to deal with everything else as well.”

“Delia, open the door. Now.” Patsy’s voice was suddenly stern and Delia could hear her standing up.

Delia stood up hesitantly, her hand on the lock. She meant what she had said. She didn’t want Patsy to see her like this. But the overwhelming need to be in Patsy’s arms was becoming unbearable. She had barely slid the lock out of place when the door flew open and Patsy barged in, pushing the door shut behind her. 

“Don’t you ever-” Patsy grabbed Delia’s face, a little rougher than she’d meant to in her haste to express her feelings, “- _ever_ think that I don’t have time for you, Delia. You’ve got to stop this ridiculous notion that your feelings aren’t valid. Where is this all coming from?!”

Patsy looked into Delia’s forlorn face, scrutinised the bags under her eyes, the drawn pallor of her skin. This was not the Delia she’d left behind. 

“Why have you stopped talking about things with me?” Patsy’s voice came out quiet now. Scared.

“I don’t know.” Delia whispered. She didn’t want to tell Patsy the truth. She didn’t want to have to tell her that whilst Patsy had been away, saying goodbye to the last remaining shred of family she had left, Delia had been plagued with guilt and had vowed never to be another burden to her already heavily laden girlfriend. 

“Delia.” Patsy took her hands from Delia’s face and instead put them around her neck, pulling her closer, feeling Delia’s arms wrap themselves tightly around her waist. “You don’t always have to be the one doing the saving, you know. You can’t save everyone. You don’t need to tiptoe around me and pretend not to be sad or act as though you’ve not had a ghastly day.” Patsy pulled back slightly so she could look Delia in the eye. “Sometimes you have to just let yourself be saved.”

Delia bit the inside of her cheek uncertainly. 

“Deels, I want to drown in you. I want everything you have. I want to give you all of me and receive it back. I don’t need someone to look after me, or care for me, or try and give me everything – I just need you. But I need _all_ of you. Delia, you have to give me that. Please don’t turn into me.” 

Patsy’s eyes started to shine with tears as she continued to speak.

“It’s been almost five years since I first fell in love with you. Five years since you started knocking down the walls I had built up around myself. I cut myself off from so much, Delia. I missed out on so many close relationships because I simply refused to let myself feel. And it was _agonising_. Please, I’m begging you Delia, please don’t do that to yourself.”

Patsy bit her lip as her face crumpled.

“Please don’t do that to me.” She finished.

Delia pulled Patsy back to her and buried her face in her neck as they clung to each other, tears flowing freely, holding and being held in perfect accord. 

“Come to bed with me.” Delia murmured eventually, placing her lips softly against Patsy’s neck. 

“I’ll go anywhere with you.” Patsy said, closing her still wet eyes at Delia’s touch. She felt a hint of a smile as she felt Delia’s lips make their way up to her ear, across her jaw, and stop gently on her own. 

“Come on, then.” Delia whispered, her soft lips moving lightly against Patsy’s. She took Patsy’s hand loosely in her own, leading them out of the bathroom and across the darkened corridor to Delia’s bedroom. 

As soon as the door was shut and the lock twisted into place, Patsy turned to Delia, pushing the smaller girl against the heavy oak. 

“I mean it, Deels.” Patsy said, her eyes suddenly dark. “I want all of you.”

She leant towards Delia, their lips meeting in salty unison, kisses that were soft a few moments ago suddenly harsh and heavy with need. She felt Delia’s tongue slip into her mouth and allowed herself to respond with vigour. Her hands wandered over Delia’s hips, ghosting over her breasts as she started unbuttoning the pale blue of Delia’s uniform, slipping it off over her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. Patsy let her lips leave Delia’s for the briefest of moments, just enough time to pull her own pyjama shirt over her head, before capturing Delia’s bottom lip between her teeth and reaching down to grab Delia’s thigh, lifting it up and wrapping it around her own waist. 

Patsy knew that she would have to work on Delia. She knew it would take time. But as she heard her name leave Delia’s lips and saw, just for a few moments, the suggestion of a sparkle return to Delia’s blue eyes, she felt hope. 

“There’s a massive crack in this ceiling,” Delia said, pointing upwards sometime later as they lay, panting, tangled together on the hardwood floor having been seemingly unable to make it to the bed. 

“There’s a crack in everything,” Patsy said, pulling Delia closer to her, planting a kiss on her shoulder. “It’s how the light gets in.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pats and Deels have a little scrap. (If any of you have been reading In the Pursuit of Patience by TheScribbler - don't worry, mine's nowhere near as gut wrenching as that last chapter! Oh my God, it was so good though. I'm obsessed with that fic and I can't stop talking about it. It's so unbelievably good. Let's talk about it.)
> 
> Anyway.

“Pats, what’s the date?” Delia sat up in bed suddenly, a look of panic settling on her features. 

“It’s the 12th,” Patsy responded, her eyes travelling gratefully over the exposed skin of Delia’s back. Propping herself up on her elbow, she ran her free hand softly down Delia’s spine, her fingers trailing lazily. “Why?”

“Oh, God.” Delia turned to Patsy, her brow creased. 

“What’s the matter?” Patsy sat up, clutching the blanket to her chest.

“My mam’s coming.”

As if on cue, the gentle dawn sunlight that had been filtering through Delia’s curtains disappeared, leaving the room cold and grey. Patsy hadn’t seen Mrs. Busby since they had taken her out for afternoon tea in return for Delia’s birth certificate and Mrs. Busby had dropped several hints that she was not at all impressed with Patsy’s choice of profession, her apparent influence over _Delia’s_ choice of profession and, most worryingly, the idea of Patsy and her daughter being ‘thick as thieves’. At the time, Patsy had been rattled and therefore done nothing to throw Mrs. Busby off the scent, telling her that she was taking Delia to Paris and leaving little room for speculation as to why. With hindsight, Patsy realised that she had been brazen and irresponsible and made a mental note that the next time she saw Mrs. Busby, she would do all she could to rectify her actions.

She couldn’t say she was entirely pleased that the situation had presented itself so soon.

*

Patsy fiddled nervously with her bracelet as Delia stood up to greet her mother. 

“Hello, mam!” Delia smiled widely as Mrs. Busby gave her a kiss on the cheek. 

“Hello, cariad,” Mrs. Busby smiled at her daughter, a smile that faded somewhat as she glanced at Patsy.

“Hello, Mrs. Busby.” Patsy stood up and shook Mrs. Busby’s hand, her voice sounding a lot more confident that it felt.

“Hello.” Mrs. Busby said curtly, releasing Patsy’s hand quickly and sitting down at the small table. 

“Patsy and I were just talking about a dance we’re attending on Friday, mam,” Delia said breezily, picking up the quaint teapot on their table and pouring her mother a cup of tea.

Patsy looked up in surprise. Her and Delia had been discussing no such thing. 

“Oh?” Mrs. Busby allowed herself a moment to stop glaring at Patsy and looked instead at her daughter.

“We were just wondering about who to choose for our dates,” Delia continued, avoiding Patsy’s eyes. “We’ve both been asked by quite a few of the junior doctors.”

Mrs. Busby looked notably happier as Delia went on to describe some of the possible contenders. Patsy wondered if they were real men, or fictitious doctors Delia had invented on the spot. By the time Delia started to describe a date she’d been on the weekend before with a young doctor named John, Patsy was certain they were fabricated. Not least because she knew exactly what Delia had been doing last weekend, and indeed who with. 

For all of her intentions, Patsy barely had a chance to put the idea of her and Delia far from Mrs. Busby’s mind. Delia had talked almost incessantly for the entire lunch, giving Mrs. Busby such detailed stories of the men she was entertaining that by the time they bade Mrs. Busby good day and started their walk back to Nonnatus House, Patsy half believed it herself. 

“Delia…” she began cautiously, peering at Delia from beneath her fringe. “Why did you tell your mother all those lies?”

Delia frowned in confusion. 

“What do you mean?”

“Well, about all the junior doctors.” Patsy clarified. She shot Delia a quick grin. “Unless they weren’t lies?”

Delia laughed.

“I can assure you, Pats – even if those men did exist, there’s no way they’d get me to go to one of their vacuous dances.”

“So why did you tell your mother that, then?”

“Well, what would you rather?” Delia frowned again. “I can hardly tell her about us, can I?”

“No, of course not, but…” Patsy bit her lip, trying to find the words to describe how she was feeling. “It’s just… You lied with such ease. You didn’t even think twice about it. I suppose I just didn’t realise you were that skilled a liar.” Patsy cringed as she heard the words come out. She hadn't meant it to sound so antagonising. 

Delia stopped walking and gaped at Patsy. 

“Let me get this straight,” she said as Patsy stopped a few steps ahead of her. “You don’t want me to tell my mother about us, and you don’t want her to suspect - yet you’re angry with me because I wasn’t more _obvious_?”

Patsy felt her face reddening. It sounded ridiculous when Delia put it like that. 

“Delia, no, of course I’m not _angry_ , I just –“

“Patsy, it’s 1963. I’m a queer. Do you really think I’ve not mastered the art of deceit? Do you think I _want_ to lie to my mother?”

“Of course not.” Patsy sighed resignedly. “I’m just worried that you’re spending so much energy lying to people and hiding from people and, it’s not… it’s not healthy.”

Delia stared incredulously at Patsy. 

“And you’re not?” Delia let out a mirthless laugh. “Patsy, I don’t know what you want from me. When I’m too open with you, I get it in the neck. When I do my best to dismiss suspicion, somehow I still get it in the neck!”

“Delia, please –“ Patsy began, but Delia cut her off.

“Just forget it, Patsy. I’ll see you at home.” Delia brushed past Patsy before she could say another word and strode off up the street. Patsy watched her go, a sinking feeling of regret settling uneasily in her stomach.

*

“Good afternoon, Nurse Mount.” Phyllis looked up from her station at the phone as Patsy entered Nonnatus. 

“Good afternoon, Phyllis.” Patsy gave Phyllis a tight lipped smile, shutting the door sharply behind her. 

“How was your tea with Mrs. Busby?” Phyllis raised her eyebrows slightly, as though preparing herself for another of Patsy’s well known tirades about Mrs. Busby. 

“Splendid.” Patsy replied shortly, unlacing her shoes and slipping them off, hastily placing them neatly on the shoe rack and disappearing up the stairs without another word. 

Phyllis frowned after her. Delia had returned not five minutes prior, sporting an equally false sense of joviality regarding their lunch outing, and when prompted about Patsy’s whereabouts, her response had been a very cool shrug. 

Patsy was glad that Phyllis was on call and Trixie was out at a delivery. It meant that she was free to lie on her bed and stew in her own misery for a good few hours before either of her friends would think to come looking for her. She knew that Barbara and Tom were coming over to eat with the Nonnatuns, and although she dearly missed Barbara’s company, Patsy knew she wouldn’t be able to bring herself to put on a cheery smile and pretend everything was fine, and for all her clumsy demeanour, she knew Barbara to be exceptionally perceptive. Crossing her ankles and leaning back against her pillow, Patsy felt the irritating sting of tears prickle at the corners of her eyes. Wiping them away angrily, she turned on her side and huffed. She was mad at herself for how she had handled the situation. Mad at herself for accusing Delia of things she knew she herself was more than guilty off. Mad because of the bumbling way she’d expressed her own disquiet. And she was mad at Delia for storming off home and not allowing Patsy any attempts to articulate her argument further.

_Why is she making it so difficult to help her?!_ Patsy thought to herself, kicking a book irritably off her bed. 

_Probably because a reprimand rarely presents as an offer to help._ An irritatingly soft voice in her head answered. Annoyingly, it was the part of her brain that often spoke in the voice of Phyllis. 

__Patsy let out a frustrated sigh. She wanted nothing more than to close the distance between herself and Delia. To cross the hallway and crawl into bed, where she knew Delia would be. Wallowing. Just as Patsy was. It would be fruitless, she knew. Delia would still be angry. She would make some kind of sarcastic comment, and Patsy would shoot a cutting remark back, unable to hold her tongue, and they’d be back to square one again. Patsy rolled over, turning her back on the late afternoon sun that seemed intent on forcing its way into the bedroom. She clambered under her covers, still fully dressed, and pulled them up over her head, blocking the light out and willing her brain to go to sleep, allowing her, if only for a few hours, some respite from the grey cloud of misery hanging over her head. Patsy was getting a taste of what the challenging first few years of their relationship had been like for Delia. She was suddenly on the receiving end of a partner closing themselves off, deflecting the other’s worry and turning it into something unreasonable; and for the first time since her and Delia had been together, Patsy felt alone._ _


	7. Chapter 7

When Patsy awoke, it was dark outside and the rest of Nonnatus had fallen into silence. Squinting at her bedside clock, she realised with guilty satisfaction that it was late enough for the nuns to be in bed and therefore safe to go downstairs and into the kitchen without having to face unwanted small talk. She pulled the covers off herself and sat up stiffly, feeling the kind of unclean that only sleeping in clothes can create, and decided her hunger could wait a few more minutes whilst she washed and got dressed into a clean pair of pyjamas. She wondered if Delia had made it downstairs for dinner. It was unlikely, Patsy thought. Delia had never dealt well with hiding her feelings, and sitting at a table opposite a beaming Barbara and a table full of blissfully ignorant nuns would probably have tipped her over the edge. 

Padding barefoot into the kitchen some time later, Patsy was therefore unsurprised to see Delia stood at the cooker, stirring a pan of milk. The sight was so familiar and welcoming that for a few moments, Patsy was so consumed with love that she forgot they were fighting and a smile played over her lips until Delia noticed she was there. The tension between them came flooding back, however, when Delia looked up, her face paler than usual, her eyes tired and bloodshot. 

“Hello.” She said stiffly, turning back to the pan. 

It was clear that Delia’s anger had not abated over the afternoon. Patsy’s own anger, none of which, she realised with hindsight, was a direct result of anything Delia had done but rather why she’d had to do it, had slowly started to evaporate and had begun to be replaced instead with an emptiness usually filled by a dimple-faced Welshwoman. 

“What are you making?” Patsy asked weakly.

Delia looked over and raised an eyebrow sardonically.

“I’m making a roast dinner, Pats,” she deadpanned. “What does it look like?”

Patsy bristled. She knew her question had been somewhat redundant, but it had been more of an olive branch than a genuine query and Delia’s rebuff irritated her. She knew full well that Patsy’s words had come from a place of worry and concern, so why she was acting as though Patsy had come into her house on Christmas day and… 

Patsy let out an irate huff, unwilling to waste her time finishing that thought and turned to leave the kitchen, coming face to face instead with Trixie.

“Hello, you two!” She said brightly, floating into the kitchen and putting her bag on the table. “You’re both up quite late? I’ve just had a shocker of a delivery and I’m desperate for a cup of tea!” Trixie smiled and wandered over to join Delia at the hob, taking the battered steel kettle and filling it with water. “Are you having tea, Patsy? Or are you sharing this with Delia?”

“She’s not sharing this.” Delia said shortly, stirring the milk a little more vigorously that was needed.

Trixie looked up from the kettle, finally seeming to gauge the tension in the room.

“Have you two been quarrelling?” She asked, looking at Patsy accusingly.

“Don’t look at me like that, Trixie Franklin.” Patsy crossed her arms, annoyed that Trixie had automatically assumed this was her fault. 

Trixie rolled her eyes.

“What’s happened?” She said, placing the now full kettle on the hob and taking a packet of cigarettes out of her pocket, opening them up and delicately plucking one out. 

“Delia’s angry with me because I had the _audacity_ to be worried about her.” Patsy said in annoyance, taking her own cigarettes out of her pocket and lighting one, watching through the veil of smoke as she saw Delia’s shoulder stiffen. 

“No, I’m _angry_ because you just think you can swan around doing and saying as you please, whereas if I even so much as – “

“Alright.” Trixie said, holding up a hand, sensing that this was going to lead to another row. “Patsy, why don’t you start. Tell me what happened. Calmly.”

Patsy let out another huff and sat down at the kitchen table, taking a long drag on her cigarette. She didn’t say anything for a few minutes, gradually smoking until her cigarette was almost burnt down to the filter, and then, feeling slightly calmer, she began to tell Trixie, as neutrally as she could, about her and Delia’s disagreement. Delia was still stood at the hob, her milk obviously overheating but loath to sit down and have to make eye contact with the others as Patsy shared their discussion. She was irritated at how easily and openly Patsy was telling Trixie about their argument and wondered how obliging she would be if it had been Delia telling her about something Patsy had done. Not very, she thought bitterly.

Trixie sighed sadly as Patsy finished the tale. 

“I’m afraid I agree with you, Patsy. It’s definitely not healthy lying to people you’re close to – but I understand why you did it,” Trixie added to Delia’s tense back. “And we all know that you’re well versed in it, Patsy, so let’s try not to single Delia out, shall we?”

Trixie raised her eyebrows good-naturedly, attempting to lighten the mood.

“Yes, but the difference is Trix, I’ve not turned to self-destruction as form of coping with it.”

Delia slammed the wooden spoon she was holding on the counter with such aggression that Trixie and Patsy jumped. 

“Shall we talk about healthy coping mechanisms, Pats?” Delia’s eyes flashed dangerously as she turned around to face them.

For the second time that day, Patsy wished she could claw her words out of the air and take them back.

“Delia, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean –“

“Didn’t mean what, Patsy? That you think I’m a mess? That you think I can’t cope? I don’t need you looking out for me. You were in Hong Kong for nine months and I coped perfectly well on my own – I didn’t need you then, and I don’t need you now.”

Delia threw the pan of now burnt milk into the sink with force and stormed out of the kitchen, leaving a stunned Patsy and Trixie in her wake.

“She’s not gone out, surely?” Said Trixie worriedly as they heard the front door slam. “It’s 11pm - and it’s absolutely pouring down!”

Patsy stood up clumsily, not answering Trixie but instead running down the corridor towards the front door. 

“Patsy, don’t be ridiculous, you’re in your pyjamas!” Trixie exclaimed, following Patsy out of the room and staring incredulously as she pulled on her coat. “I’ll go.”

“Trixie, I can’t just leave her!” Patsy glared back. “Stay here.”

Trixie opened her mouth redundantly as Patsy slipped out of the door, shutting it quietly behind her. 

*

Patsy stopped at a fork in the road, breathing hard. She had been fairly certain that she would catch Delia up at the end of the road having left the house almost immediately after, but Delia seemed to have disappeared into thin air. Patsy’s winter coat was thick, but it was now completely saturated with icy water and she began to worry. She had seen Delia’s coat still hanging on the stand as she left, and the thought of her in this weather wearing nothing but slacks and a thin blouse added a new sense of urgency to Patsy’s search. She closed her eyes and tried to focus.

“Of course.” Her eyes snapped open and she turned on her heel sharply, breaking into a run as she headed down the road towards to the pier. She cursed herself for not thinking of it sooner. It was always where Delia went to clear her head. The same spot they’d had their first date, and many subsequent ones since; the battered bench where they’d shared a bag of chips, the worn out shack where they’d bought coffee, the old railings that Delia had pushed Patsy up against for the first time and kissed her until her head span. 

Patsy could see her now. Delia was leaning against the railings, looking down into the murky Thames below. Patsy bit her lip as she walked over, silently leaning next to Delia, making the other girl jump.

“You must be freezing.” Patsy said softly as Delia turned to her. She put her hand out to rub the top of Delia’s arm, the sleeve of Delia’s blouse riding up as she did so. Patsy’s hand froze as she looked at Delia’s arm. Deep, red marks crisscrossed gradually up her bicep. She felt Delia stiffen.

“Delia… What on… When did this happen? Why didn’t you tell me?” Patsy heard the tremble in her own voice.

Delia made a strangled sound as her face crumpled and she tried to hold back a sob. Her legs buckled beneath her and Patsy put her arms out quickly to catch her. 

“Patsy, I’m so sorry!” Delia sobbed into Patsy’s neck. “I just - I couldn’t, I was too embarrassed, I felt so stupid. Pats, please don’t be mad.“

“Shhh,” Patsy held Delia tighter to her. “It’s okay. I’m not mad. Of course I’m not mad.

”I don’t know what’s happening to me, Pats.” The wind was whipping around them now and Patsy opened her coat, pulling Delia into it and wrapping it around them both. Delia wound her arms tightly around Patsy’s waist and Patsy could feel the wet fabric of Delia’s blouse against her. “I’m so scared. I thought it was just a one-time thing. I’m sorry I got so angry at you. I wasn’t really. I never was. I was angry at myself. And now I feel like I’m pushing you away, and I don’t know why, because you’re the only person I really care about Pats, you’re the only one who matters. It’s just you. It’s always been you. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to be a _mess_ , Patsy!”

“Deels, you’re not a mess.” Patsy pressed a kiss to the top of Delia’s head, pulling back slightly and pushing Delia’s sopping hair out of her face. “And even if you were, you’d be my mess. You could never do anything to push me away.”

“But I feel like I already am, Pats.” Fresh tears slid down Delia’s wet cheeks. “Sometimes I feel like all I’m doing is testing your boundaries, pushing you too far. You have so many rules about life and yourself and us; I don’t want to make you break any of them.”

“Delia, you’re the exception to every rule I ever made.” Patsy smiled softly. “The only reason I make rules in the first place is because I want to protect us. I want to be able to be together. I want _you_ , always.”

“But _why_?” Delia whispered.

Patsy felt her heart constrict as she looked at Delia’s anxious face. Did Delia really not know why Patsy loved her? Had Patsy’s neurotic obsession with rules and public propriety led to a girlfriend who was constantly questioning her worth? She put her arms back around Delia, wrapping her coat tighter around them and nestled her face next to Delia’s.

“Delia, I love you more than anyone in the whole world. I was barely even a person before you. I was so lost and scared. I had nobody at all, and I thought that suited me just fine. But then you came along. You tied up all my lose ends. You filled a void in me that had been empty for so many years. You made me whole again, Deels - made me start living, instead of just getting through the days. You made me feel so _alive_. I’ve felt my heart break for you; felt it break _with_ you. I can’t imagine now what things would have turned out like without you. It’s as though everything leading up to you was in black and white, and then suddenly I began to see in colour.”

Delia looked up into Patsy’s eyes and smiled in soft surprise. Patsy never hid her affection for Delia when they were alone, but it was rare for her to articulate it so eloquently and openly. 

“We’ve been through so much, Deels – you and I.” Patsy continued, bringing one of her hands gently to Delia’s cheek. “We’ve lost and found each other so many times, been through such horrific turmoil I wouldn’t wish on anybody. And after it all, after all this time…” Patsy wrapped her arms around Delia and pulled her closer, felt Delia settle into the familiar nook of Patsy’s neck she fit so perfectly into, as though it was made just for her, “I’m still falling for you. And that’s why.”


	8. Chapter 8

“There you are!” Trixie rushed over to the door as Patsy and Delia stumbled through it. Delia was wrapped in Patsy’s coat, the sleeves too long and the collar turned up to protect against the wind. She had refused at first to take the coat, arguing that it was her fault that they were stood out in the freezing rain in the first place and that she should have brought her own coat, but after realising that Patsy would rather stand there arguing for another 20 minutes rather than just keep her coat, Delia took it reluctantly and huddled Patsy as close to her as possible as they staggered home. 

“I was worried sick!” Trixie shut the door behind them and appraised the dripping pair with her hands on her hips. “Phyllis got home about ten minutes ago, she’s running a bath and getting some new pyjamas for you both.”

“You go first, Pats.” Delia said, taking Patsy’s coat off and shaking it out. “You must be freezing.”

“Yes, go on Patsy, look at you! You’re drenched to the bone!” Trixie shooed Patsy up the stairs, promising to send Delia up as soon as she was done. 

“I’m so sorry about this, Trixie,” Delia mumbled in embarrassment as Patsy disappeared. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I feel so selfish, and poor Pats is probably going to get a terrible cold now.”

“Oh, Delia, don’t be silly.” Trixie smiled kindly. “We all get wound up sometimes. A couple of years ago, Patsy and I got into the most terrible row about something minor, and I stormed out. Patsy spent the whole night wandering around every bar in Poplar until she found me slumped over a table in a dingy pub having run up an extortionate tab. She paid the tab, carried me home, put me to bed and then did my shift in the morning, telling Sister Julienne that I had a fever.”

“Really? She never told me that.” Delia looked at Trixie in surprise. 

“No, I think she knew how mortified I’d be if anyone else found out.” Trixie smiled sadly. “But I’ve never forgotten it. How selfless she was. She never mentioned it again – she just quietly let me know that she’s always going to be there, regardless of how much of an idiot I act. It was the first time I really felt like I had any sort of family. Someone who was going to be there for me, even when we were fighting.”

Delia smiled softly. 

“I don’t know what we did to deserve her. She’s an absolute angel.”

Trixie sighed.

“Yes, she is.” 

*

Patsy shook her wet hair out and scraped it into a loose bun at the back of her head. With a sigh, she sat down on her bed, grateful for the fresh, warm pyjamas Phyllis had given her, tucking the bottoms of her pyjama trousers into thick, woollen socks. 

“How’re you doing, lass?” Patsy looked up and saw Phyllis entering the room, her features softer than usual. 

“Marvellous. Much better now I’ve warmed up!” Patsy said brightly. 

Phyllis gave her a small smile and made her way to her own bed, cupping Patsy’s face in her hand as she passed. 

“You don’t have to act so chipper all the time, kid. You’ve had a rough night. Don’t be afraid to say so.” She gave Patsy’s cheek a soft, motherly pat. “Practise what you preach, Patsy. It’s okay to talk.”

Patsy gave a sheepish smile. 

“Honestly, I’m fine Phyllis. I just feel a bit…” Patsy struggled for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts. “I feel like I’m getting it all wrong.”

Phyllis sat down next to Patsy. 

“Patsy, there’s nothing _for_ you to get wrong.” She said kindly. “Delia doesn’t need fixing. She just needs to know that you love her, and that you’re there for her. And, between you and me, I think you’ve made both of those things abundantly clear.”

Patsy exhaled, apparently not convinced.

“Don’t expect so much from yourself.” Phyllis said sagely. “Now, come on. Delia is getting her bath, let’s go downstairs and get the Horlicks on.” 

*

By the time Phyllis had made everyone a cup of Horlicks, it was well past midnight. Trixie and Phyllis bade them both goodnight, ascending the staircase with their mugs, yawning and leaving Patsy and Delia cuddled together in front of the fire, a blanket wrapped around their shoulders. 

“Deels?” Patsy said softly, looking at her hands nervously. They were wrapped around her mug, her long fingers drumming anxiously against the crockery. 

“Hmm?” Delia looked up, inquisitively. 

“Can we talk about it?” Patsy asked quietly.

“Talk about what, Pats?” Delia frowned.

“Talk about… you know. You. Doing that.”

“Oh.” Delia looked away, a pink tinge appearing on her cheeks.

Patsy glanced over at her, noticing Delia’s embarrassment, and tried to think of something to say to put her mind at ease. Patsy was usually so good at this sort of thing. She had always been able to get Trixie to talk, eventually, and despite the obvious differences in upbringing that often made people feel unsure when they first met her, she had always had a good success rate when it came to getting patients to open up and feel comfortable with her. However, when it came to Delia, Patsy felt like Delia was holding back in a way she hadn’t in the past. Patsy decided she was going to have to take a more direct approach.

“Why didn’t you tell me about it?” 

Delia rolled her eyes.

“Because.” She said plainly. Patsy raised her eyebrows, signifying she expected more of an answer than that. Delia let out a frustrated sigh.

“Because, Pats. I was embarrassed, alright? I didn’t want you thinking I was being ridiculous. And to be honest, I don’t even know _why_ I did it. Nothing had happened, I hadn’t been wronged in any way, I was just feeling… I don’t know – I felt stupid as soon as it happened, and I didn’t want to have to broadcast that stupidity.”

“Delia.” Patsy shook her head. “Please don’t feel stupid. Especially not with me.”

“But, Patsy –“

“No.” Patsy sat up straighter, the blanket falling off her shoulders. Her voice was stern. “No, Delia. I understand that you might feel a little… tentative about telling me, I do. But we’re in this,” Patsy gestured with her hands between the two of them, “together. I don’t care if you do it. Well, no –“ Patsy stopped herself, shaking her head as Delia let out a soft chuckle. “Of _course_ I care. And of course I don’t want you to. But what I’m trying to say is that I would never be mad at you for doing it. I would want you to come to me. Preferably before you did it, so I could just wrap my arms around you and you could take whatever awful feelings you’re having out on me instead of yourself. But I’m yours, Delia. I’m _yours_. That’s what I’m here for. I would hate to think that you were sat in your bedroom on your own, feeling horrific, when all you need to do is come and knock on my door.”

Delia bit her lip and stared into the fireplace, watching the flames crackle and remembering the night a few days ago when she’d taken the blade out of a rusty pencil sharpener and run it across her arm, time and time again. In truth, she had wanted Patsy as soon as it had happened. She had heard her coming home from a shift, laughing with Trixie on the stairs about something a patient had said, and her heart had urged her to call out. But something had stopped her. Shame. Embarrassment. The feeling of utter humiliation that she felt listening to the two girls outside her door, girls who had been through so much more in their lives than she ever had in hers, girls who had lost their families through death, or fates worse than death. So she had kept quiet, and by the time Patsy popped her head round the bedroom door, Delia had already climbed into bed, a cloth surreptitiously clamped to her arm, and pretended to be asleep, silent tears seeping through her pillowcase. 

“Please, Deels.” Patsy said, jolting Delia from her thoughts. “Please just let me help you.”

“I’ll try my best, Nurse Mount.” Delia gave a small salute, flashing Patsy a dimpled grin. 

“I’m serious,” Patsy gave Delia a reproachful look, but returned her smile, leaning forward and kissing the corner of Delia’s mouth softly, putting her arms around the smaller girl and pulling her into a hug. “I love you, Busby.” Patsy lent her cheek on the top of Delia’s head. “I always do.”

*

The next morning, the rain had turned to snow, and the day had been full of endless tales of slips, trips, and bicycle accidents during the toing and froing from appointment to appointment. By eight o’clock that evening, Trixie, Patsy and Delia were settled in the front room of Nonnatus, a rare alignment in the rota seeing them sharing the same evening off. Having spent the entire day in wet stockings with frozen finger tips, none of the three of them had felt much like venturing into the city just for the sake of a few drinks, opting instead for a cosy night in gathered in front of the fire. Trixie was perched happily on the edge of an armchair, listening to Patsy and Delia bickering.

“Don’t be ridiculous Delia, of course you couldn’t.”

Patsy flicked nonchalantly through her magazine as Delia scoffed in indignation at her comment.

“Patsy.” She said seriously. “I am positive I could.”

“Deels, I’m sure you think you could. I don’t doubt your faith in yourself, but I do think that it’s rather ill-founded.”

Delia stood up.

“Fine. Come on then.” She held a hand out to Patsy. Patsy looked up and raised her eyebrows. 

“Delia, I’m sorry, but there’s no way that I’m going to let you attempt to carry me on your _back_ up an entire flight of stairs.” Patsy closed her magazine, staring at Delia as though she had suddenly spouted an extra head. 

“Pats, I know I can do it.” Delia didn’t drop her hand, still holding it out in front of Patsy’s doubtful face.

“Oh, go on Patsy,” Trixie said from her armchair, not taking her eyes off the nails she was painting. “Live a little.”

“I’m trying to! Which is exactly why I don’t want my life to come to an end at the hands of a staircase and this buffoon!” Patsy gestured to Delia, who frowned. Patsy shot her a quick look of exasperated affection before turning back to Trixie. “Let her carry you up, if you’re so enthused about the idea!” 

Trixie smirked.

“I couldn’t possibly.” She held her nails up smugly. “My nails are still wet, and at 4 shillings a bottle, I can’t afford to smudge them.”

Delia looked at Patsy expectantly, still holding her hand out. Eventually, Patsy acquiesced. 

“If this is what happens when the television is on the blink, then I rather think we ought to invest in a live-in repair man.” She sighed, putting her hand in Delia’s and allowing  
herself to be pulled off the sofa. 

“I’d much rather watch this than the television any day!” Trixie giggled, following as Patsy and Delia made their way to the bottom of the staircase.

“Right.” Delia grabbed Patsy’s arms authoritatively. “You stand on that bottom step, Pats. That’s it. And then after three, jump on, okay?”

Delia turned her back to Patsy, who put her hands on her hips.

“Delia, I really don’t think –“

“Patsy, I can do it! Just trust me.”

Patsy let out a sigh.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” She rested her hands on Delia’s shoulders. “If Sister Evangelina could see us horsing around like this –“

“She’d give us a stern talking to, and then she would laugh until the cows came home.” Trixie smiled at the thought.

“Right, are you ready?” Patsy said to Delia, who nodded eagerly. “Okay. One, two –“

Patsy leapt off the stair, wrapping her legs around Delia’s waist, Delia staggering a little under Patsy’s weight. 

“Okay, I’m just going to walk around a bit and get used to it.” Delia took a few tentative steps forward, hitching Patsy up whilst Trixie threw her head back in laughter. 

“Delia, I really don’t have a good feeling about this.” Patsy tightened her grip on Delia’s neck as Delia turned around and walked back towards the staircase.

“It’s fine, Pats. We’re fine. Are you ready? I’m going to take the first step.”

“No, I’m not ready. Put me down. I’ve changed my mind.”

“You can’t change your mind, Patsy. Cop hold.”

Delia managed the first 6 stairs before she started laughing. 

“Deels, I swear to God, if you drop me down these stairs –“

Delia grabbed the railing of the staircase, trying to steady herself as another wave of giggles rippled through her. Much to her chagrin, Patsy found herself laughing, the muscles in her legs weakening as she shook with silent mirth. 

“Deels, I can’t hold on, I’m slipping –“ Patsy managed, letting out a peal of laughter. They heard the front door open and close, but, paralysed with an amalgamation of laughter and the fear of falling, didn’t attempt to move from their position. 

“What on Earth?” Phyllis put her bag down at the bottom of the stairs next to Trixie, who was doubled over, holding her stomach as tears ran down her face. Before she could compose herself enough to answer, Patsy let out a shriek as she and Delia fell sideways, crashing into the wall before tumbling down the last few stairs and landing in a heap at Phyllis’ feet. Phyllis tutted as the hallway filled with the unbridled hysterics of the three young midwives rolling around in their pyjamas. Shaking her head, she left them there, making her way into the kitchen and allowing a wide smile to spread across her face as she heard the melodic sound of Delia’s laughter carry through the room.


End file.
